Good.

[ And he sounds glad, but it's also good that she's not a psychic by way of telephone. Somewhere, Charles massages fingertips on either side of the bridge of his nose. He has his irritating science reasons to believe that none of this--

Well.

None of this matters, very much. But...

Hope and faith, Erik had said. ]

To know him capable, anyway. I suppose I just sort of find all of this a little-- exacerbating. Fear is a poison, you know. Like hatred.